Mellow Down Masrani
by Lord Kristine
Summary: This is a reflection on the life of Simon Masrani.
1. Forethoughts

Far away, on a remote island, in the deepest darkest part of the jungle, there exists a colony of magical fairies, which is ruled by a tiny white tiger who had formerly been an ant, a helicopter, and one of the richest men alive. This may seem impossible, but the world is full of impossible things. At least, that's how Simon Masrani justifies his situation. He's always been an optimist, because he knows that being negative only leads to misery. Of course, when he was a rich man, those who didn't know him very well attributed his pleasant disposition to the fact that he could buy whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. They were wrong.

While most people are either miserable because their jobs are high-paying and dull or exciting and paycheck-to-paycheck, Simon Masrani knows that wealth and ambition are not bringers of joy. Happiness comes from within, and obstacles are only as large as a person makes them. That's why he's perfectly content living in a modified birdhouse, rather than a vast mansion like before. A home is a home, regardless of size, so no matter what the world throws at him, he refuses to change his cheerful disposition.

Usually.

There are times when Simon allows himself to feel upset, but only because his actions impact others. Although it isn't fun to have bad things happen to him personally, it's so much worse to know that he's caused someone else's misery. Luckily, he's a competent man, and this happens very infrequently. Anyway, it's hard to get into much trouble in the middle of the woods. The fairy colony is rather secluded, and it's not often that it receives visitors. Today is a rare exception, because someone is on her way right now. Perched in a tree, Simon perks up when he hears heavy footsteps, but is surprised to see a beige dinosaur enter the clearing instead of his usual green guest. He frowns in confusion and hops down onto a lower branch to speak with the newcomer.

"Hello."

The dinosaur looks up in surprise.

"Oh, hi. I didn't see you there . . ."

"I know. I'm small," he says neutrally, "What brings you here?"

Her nostrils twitch.

"I thought you were aware of this meeting . . ."

"Yes, but I was expecting Claire."

The dinosaur nods.

"Yeah, I'm filling in for her today. She sends her apologies. She's at her daughter's dance recital."

Simon smiles.

"Good for her. I always knew that she'd find her way eventually."

The dinosaur sits down and pulls a clipboard out of her backpack. She squishes a pen between her toes.

"Right, so she told me to ask you about your flood prevention plan. I'm supposed to take detailed notes-"

"That is a task you cannot accomplish. When Claire says 'detailed', she isn't joking around. No person dead or alive can meet her standards, you know. We'd better postpone the meeting until she's available."

The dinosaur shakes her head.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking notes. I'm just as responsible as Claire, if not more."

Simon smiles warmly.

"Well, being responsible is all well and good, but it never made Claire happy."

The dinosaur snorts gently.

"Yeah, but I could probably do her job better."

Simon flicks his tail back and forth.

"Jealousy isn't healthy, you know."

"I'm not jealous!" the dinosaur says somewhat defensively, "I'm just sick of everyone underestimating me, that's all!"

He clicks his tongue sadly.

"Oh, Vivian. You've lost sight of what's important. You have friends, correct?"

"Sure."

"And they respect you, yes?"

"Yeah, but-"

"That's more valuable than praise from coworkers."

The dinosaur huffs in irritation.

"Spare me your lectures. I'm not like Claire, okay? I don't ignore my family."

"Your family?"

"I don't have a big family, I guess, but-"

"You might want to consider starting one."

She shrugs.

"Well, my relationship is going steady, but it's not like we can have kids."

"Why not?"

"It's impossible."

Simon smirks.

"And yet you are a polka-dotted dinosaur talking to a tiny, white tiger in the Land of Fairies."

She rumbles with annoyance.

"Yeah, things got weird, but the impossible never works in my favor."

Simon cocks his head.

"You don't like being a dinosaur?"

"No . . . I mean, I don't _hate_ it, but I'd rather not. I want to be somebody important, and being a dinosaur gets in the way of that."

"It doesn't have to."

"But it always turns out that way."

She sighs and lies on her belly, resting her chin on her front feet.

"I don't want to be all big and clunky and stuff. I want hands. I want to be able to eat bacon and eggs. I want a butt that doesn't have a clumsy tail attached to it. It's inconvenient to be a dinosaur. It sucks to be me."

Simon exhales slowly.

"Perhaps it's not your shape that needs to be adjusted. Your attitude could use some work, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"You're alive, you're healthy, and you are surrounded by people who enjoy your company. There are men and women who would kill to have your good fortune."

She snorts.

"But those people don't have to be dinosaurs."

Simon gives her a serious look.

"I'm sure most people would gladly accept the chance to be a healthy dinosaur rather than, say, being a terminally ill human."

"Not everyone."

"No, not everyone, but a significant amount. There is nothing more miserable than living in constant pain. I'm sure having a tail is preferable to that."

She frowns.

"No offense, but I don't see why I should believe you. You've had it pretty easy in life, being rich and all."

Simon laughs.

"You'd be surprised . . ."


	2. Adulthood

Simon is sympathetic towards Claire. He has to be. The poor woman thinks there's no one on her side, but it's really not true. Being the man in charge, Simon knows what it's like to feel responsible for a disaster, and the look on Claire's face right now indicates that she's going through that same roller coaster of emotions. She stares at her coworkers with terror in her eyes, then takes a shaky breath to compose herself.

"Everyone . . . remain . . . calm."

Internally, she's probably on the verge of a breakdown. Simon is ready to step in, but Claire struts forward in a manner that suggests interfering with her would be the worst idea ever conceived. She stares at the blue image of Isla Nublar being projected in front of her and speaks sharply.

"The implant will shock it if it gets too close to a perimeter fence."

"Okay, it's moving really fast," Lowery mutters.

Vivian presses her fingers against her earpiece.

"This is control, put out a park-wide alert-"

Simon points at her sternly.

"Hang up that damn phone, please!"

Vivian gives an uncertain frown.

"Sorry, I'm getting new information. Everything's fine," she mumbles with an air of discontentment.

Simon stands beside Claire and notices that she is much calmer now that he has decided to take initiative. Good. As long as Claire is okay, the rest of the staff will be satisfied. They need a role model like her. If she falls, they fall.

"Let asset containment capture it quietly," Simon commands, "The very existence of this park is predicated on our ability to handle incidents like this."

Claire is nodding vacantly. His mediation is working.

"It was an eventuality, okay?"

"You should put that in the brochure: 'Eveeeeeeeeentually, one of these things will _eat_ somebody."

Damn it. Has Lowery _ever_ made a situation better by being present? They should never have hired him. Luckily, Claire steps in again.

"That paddock is four miles from the closest attraction. ACU can handle this. No one else is gonna get-"

"Eaten?" Lowery finishes.

"That's quite enough," Simon snaps, "We don't need you worsening an already tense situation with foolish quips. Stand down."

"I agree," Claire says, "We shouldn't be turning on each other. If we work as a team-"

"Oh, so it's all about you until something goes wrong?" Lowery snaps, "Real nice, Claire, real nice. Tell me, what gives you the right to blame us for your mistake?"

Simon puts his hand on Lowery's shoulder.

"Stop it. She's just trying to do her job."

Claire is fiddling with her necklace. If she were a car, her engine would be sputtering.

"I- I'm not blaming anyone. This was no one's fault. It was an accident. Simply an accident."

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon sees the family of one of the deceased workers glaring at her. They're clearly in her line of vision, but Claire doesn't seem to notice them. She looks away from the area inconspicuously.

"We can fix this. Once ACU captures the asset, we'll bring it back to the enclosure and do some damage control. If we keep it sedated for the next few months, we can repair the enclosure and have it ready for showing by the end of the year."

Simon agrees with her plan, but he wishes she hadn't added the last part. Now people are looking at her like she's crazy. Hoping to keep her out of trouble, he holds up his hands in a peacekeeping gesture.

"Exactly. We're prepared for this kind of thing. Every theme park has setbacks. Last week, a tiger escaped from the San Diego Zoo. They still haven't found it, so we're ahead of _them_ , at least."

Perhaps it isn't wise to joke when lives are on the line. At least some of the less important workers seem placated. Claire is breathing more steadily as well. That's a good sign. She gives a faint smile and looks around the room.

"Alright, everyone: back to work, please. We'll devote our full attention to the capture once ACU is closer to the beacon."

She turns around and looks at Simon with a cheerfulness that is most likely forced, given the current situation. He leans in closer, hoping not to draw attention. There is fear in Claire's eyes.

"May I have a word with you?" she asks in a too-chipper tone of voice.

He nods and leads her to the corner of the room. When she's sure they're out of earshot, she takes a deep breath and laces her fingers together.

"I don't think I can continue in this position."

Simon blinks.

"Position? . . ."

"My job. I can't do my job properly."

Simon's jaw drops.

"You aren't resigning, are you?"

Claire shakes her head.

"No. God, no! I just . . . I've been having these _spells_ recently."

"Sick spells?"

She squeaks uncertainly.

"You could call them that. Anyway, all of this stress is starting to pile up and I don't know how to deal with it. In a few days, I'd like to take a week off. I mean, not _completely_ off, because I want to work from home, but . . . I just don't think I'm good for the park right now. There have been too many close calls . . . I- I shouldn't be here."

Simon puts his hand on her arm.

"Claire, that's not true. You can take a week off if you need to- once this crisis is resolved, of course- and we'll see how you feel after that. Let me tell you something, though: if you're having any doubts about your leadership, they're coming from within. As far as I'm concerned, you're doing an excellent job. I'm sure everyone else agrees. This is _not_ your fault. You're an excellent employee, and we're lucky to have you. Okay?"

She nods loosely.

"Okay . . ."

"Don't worry about a thing," Simon continues, "ACU will capture the asset within the hour, and things will get back to normal."

Boy, will he regret saying that.


	3. Manhood

"What's all this Jabberwocky, when there's work to be done? Go on, get back to work!"

"But sir! The storm . . ."

"Must I repeat myself? Go on! Work, work, work!"

Simon is getting frustrated. He promised himself he wouldn't get upset over the lack of progress this month, but it's getting close to the anniversary of his father's passing, and he's in a bad mood. He doesn't mean to sound like a villainous stick in the mud, but he expected _some_ progress on the petting zoo at the very least. According to safety regulations, the walls now have to be made of a different material, which is why the workers are as busy as bees right now. They had to tranquilize the animals in the meantime, and they're starting to wake up in their cages. They look a little antsy from the carfentanil, or perhaps the incoming storm is making them tense. The clouds are swirling ominously overhead, and Simon can't help but feel a little frightened by the flashes of lightning, himself.

"Hurry up, will you? We need to get the damn animals back in their enclosure before the wind picks up."

One of the workers scowls.

"With all due respect, sir, this was a bad time to renovate. If you wanted this job done right, you should have waited until next week."

Simon steps forward briskly.

"You have the nerve to tell me I should have waited? Tell me, if _you_ came to visit your theme park and found out that you'd get bad media coverage if you didn't fix a minor detail, would _you_ wait another week to fix it? A reputation is hard to earn, and even harder to keep. One slip up, and your dream dies. I won't let _my_ slip up be something as insignificant as a rusty fence. I've worked too hard to let a foolish mistake ruin everything. The press is hungry for a chance to destroy us. Let's not give them that chance."

"Sir-"

"If you don't fix this, the tabloids will claim we're monsters that slaughter baby dinosaurs with rusty metal fragments. Do you want that to happen?"

The worker does not reply. He marches over to his toolbox and slams it shut. Obviously, he's ready to quit. His subordinates watch him strutting away briskly, unsure of whether or not it would be wise to follow. Simon sighs and rubs the space between his eyebrows.

". . . I'm sorry. I'm being too vicious. I'm not in a good way right now. When Claire is available, I'll call her over."

All at once, the worker hold up their hands.

"No, no, no!"

"Please don't!"

"I'd much rather have _you_ yelling at me than _her_!"

Simon frowns.

"You're all too hard on the woman. She's only stern because she has to be. I know it may seem like she has utter disregard for your well-being, but that's only an illusion. In reality, she's doing her best to keep the park ticking along, and she can't allow anyone to do less than is required of them . . . If you want to know the truth, you're not to blame. I came here to see how my park was doing. Even if the results disappoint me, there's nothing to be done about that. You're doing the best you can."

One of the workers wrings his hands guiltily.

"What about the press?"

Simon shrugs.

"I was exaggerating. Move the infants to the stables and close the attraction for now. We'll have to settle for what we have, even if it makes a few guests unhappy."

 _CRASH_!

Simon jumps when a bolt of lightning cuts through the air. He snaps to attention, pointing at the workers.

"Alright. Bring them to the stables now. Get indoors and stay safe!"

He jogs away, lifting his coat over his head as he does. It must be funny to see the eighth richest man splashing through puddles like this. Obviously, the weather is impartial to wealth.

As Simon ducks under an overhang, he thinks he hears someone shouting. When he listens hard, he confirms this fact. A gruff voice is bellowing through the rain, and it sounds panicked. Suddenly, the raptor trainer, Owen Grady, comes dashing out from behind a cluster of trees, holding a very unconscious Claire.

"Help! Help! I need a doctor!"

Owen whips around as Simon dashes over, flinging the rain from his hair.

"Mr. Masrani!"

"What happened?"

Owen starts choking on his own words.

"I don't know. I just found her like this. She has a bump on her head."

He turns her face around, and sure enough, there is a rather large goose egg on her temple. Owen looks down at her with worry, his lip quivering.

"I think she got knocked out or something."

Simon nods.

"Alright. Follow me to the clinic. We'll see if we can help her."

They jog through the rain until they reach a small building. Once inside, they are greeted by a nurse. Owen carries Claire over to a cot, where he lays her down and brushes a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. She shifts slightly, and he leans forward to speak with her.

"Claire? Claire, are you okay?"

She mumbles lightly, and her head lolls to the side. Owen bites his lip and turns to the nurse.

"You can fix her, right?"

"Maybe," she replies, "We'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, you can go back to work."

Owen looks down at Claire, then at the door. He switches the target of his gaze multiple times before responding.

"Do I _have_ to?"

The nurse frowns.

"Buddy, there's nothing you can do. Why don't you buy her a get well soon card or something?"

Owen nods rapidly.

"Card. Right. Should I go now?"

"Yes!" the nurse barks impatiently.

"Alright. I'm going. Make sure she doesn't die or anything, okay?"

Simon watches him leave. The nurse rolls her eyes and turns to her patient.

"What a loser. He's been trying to get with Claire for a long time. Wouldn't surprise me if he knocked her out himself."

Simon shakes his head.

"No, I don't think so. I believe he likes her."

"Makes one person."

Simon narrows his eyes. The nurse backs away nervously.

"I'll get some . . . supplies . . ."

She leaves him alone in the room. Well, alone with Claire. She's still not awake, but her lips are making small movements. Simon sits down beside her and listens.

"Mph . . ."

He blinks.

"What?"

She frowns lightly and mutters something that sounds a lot like "scarecrow". Simon exhales and takes her hand.

"It's going to be okay, Claire."

She rolls around in distress. Simon holds her down.

"Shhh. Don't move, or you'll fall off the cot."

She settles down. It's almost worse this way, because now she is completely silent. There's no response from her whatsoever, even physically. Simon squeezes her hand.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I'm sorry you had to be the scapegoat. I can't imagine what it's like to have everyone think you're a monster. Someday, I hope you can move on from this mess of a job and find yourself a life worth living."

She is absolutely still. Simon holds his hand above her face to make sure that she's still breathing. When he feels her exhale, he nods.

"It figures that it would take a coma to stop you from working. I'm not sure you'd take a break, otherwise."

He leans forward.

"But you should. Don't waste your life away, Claire. You'll regret it. I know, because I feel that way right now. If I could go back and redo one thing, I'd have a family. I know how you feel about that, Claire, but trust me when I say that you'll change your mind. I'd give anything for a family, Claire. Anything. Right now, you're the closest thing I have . . ."

She doesn't respond. Simon sighs and stands up. As he does, he realizes that he is still holding Claire's hand. Actually, it's kind of the other way around. He has to pry Claire's fingers away before he can loosen her grip. When he does, he places her hand on her belly and pats it gently.

"Right, then. This has been a good talk. Get well soon."


	4. Youth

This is quite possibly the worst moment of Simon's life. He's standing in front of the smoking remains of his father's car, musing over the crumpled hood with wide eyes and a hanging jaw. This is not something that can be repaired. The damage is too deep. He's in serious trouble.

"This looks pretty bad," his friend mutters.

"NO SHIT, AJAY!" Simon snaps.

He recoils.

"Hey, hey! Sorry, man. Try to calm down."

"I will _not_ calm down!" Simon howls, "This is a _disaster_! I can't believe I was stupid enough to take the Ferrari! Of all the cars I could have taken, it _had_ to be this one. Shit. Do you know what my dad is gonna _do_ to me?"

Ajay shrugs.

"He has a billion Ferraris. He won't care."

Simon slaps his forehead.

"It's not _about_ the car, it's about responsibility. What kind of a son takes his father's car out for a joyride and crashes it after five seconds?"

"A normal one?"

" _Not_ normal! _Not_! What's _wrong_ with me?"

"You're under too much pressure."

"No, I'm not," he sighs, "I'm just a failure of a son."

"Naw, don't say that."

"I am. I'll never be like my father."

"Is that so bad?"

"Yes! All my life, I've looked up to him-"

"He _is_ kind of tall."

"-and now I'm a complete and utter disappointment. And a Ferrari is nothing to sneeze at, either."

"It is for _your_ family."

Simon growls.

"Just because we're well off doesn't mean we're completely reckless. A car is a car, and crashing one is serious."

"I dunno, man. Your father seems pretty chill."

Simon glares at him.

"The only thing 'chill' about him is how he's going to freeze my ass!"

Ajay blinks.

"That makes no sense."

Simon wrings his hands nervously.

"He's gonna kill me . . . He's gonna _kill_ me . . ."

But his father does not kill him. He yells and he shouts and he spits a little while doing the previous two actions, but he does not lay a finger on Simon. He wasn't expecting his father to actually commit murder, of course, but somehow, he elevated the situation in his mind. In the end, he is happy to settle for a firm talking-to.

As Simon lies in his bed trying to fall asleep, he thinks about what his father said. Back when he was yelling, Simon was rather lucid, but now he's struggling to remember the exact words his father used. All he can do is sit in his bed, curled up with puffy, red eyes, trying to hold onto the wisdoms that are currently slipping away.

It's true that his father is a wise man. He is sometimes carried by his emotions, but there's no doubt that his intelligence is above average. Logically, that would mean that Simon would be the same, but he is not like his father, and that is disappointing. For both of them.

He jolts in surprise as the door opens. His father looks down at him with an unreadable expression, and he wonders if it's too late to pretend to be sleeping.

"Simon . . . Can we talk?"

He nods without lifting his head off of the pillow.

"I'm not mad about the car," his father begins, "Well, I'm a little mad, but things can be replaced. People cannot. Do you know what would have happened if you were hurt or killed in that accident?"

Simon shakes his head.

"Me neither, and I don't like to think about it," his father sighs, "I love you more than anything in the world, and I can't imagine life without you."

He places his hand on Simon's head and strokes his hair.

"I know you think I'm disappointed in you, but I'm more disappointed in myself. I knew it was dangerous to let you go driving late at night, but I didn't stop you. I saw you heading out with Ajay. I thought . . ."

He pauses.

"Well, I'm not really sure what I was thinking, to tell you the truth."

He is silent for a while. Simon is nervous about what he's going to say next. He sighs and shakes his head.

"I love you, you know. More than anything in the world. You're the best part of my life, and that's something to be happy about. When I met your mother, I wasn't sure what it would be like to have children. Now, I can't imagine the world any other way."

Simon looks up at him. He smiles and ruffles his hair.

"I want you to know that even if it seems like I'm angry, I'm only yelling at you because I love you so much. I want to protect you from harm, like any father would. I don't want to lose you, Simon."

He isn't used to this kind of affection from his father. He's never seen him look so sincere. It's somewhat disarming.

"There's one more thing you need to know. I'm proud of you. Really, I am. You're the best son I could have asked for. Today, you made a mistake, but no one is perfect. Not even me."

Simon laughs.

"Sometimes, I think you are, Pa."

He chuckles.

"Thank you, Simon, but when you're older, you'll discover that adults are just children with responsibility. We're all like that. Nobody really knows what they're doing."

Simon quirks a brow.

"That's not very comforting."

His father smiles.

"No, the world will not comfort you on its own. That's why you need people. They will comfort you."

Simon nods.

"I think I understand, Pa."

He stands up.

"Good. Don't crash any more vehicles, okay?"

Simon gives a big smile.

"I won't, Pa. I promise."


	5. Adolescence

Simon is often scolded by his teachers for having his head in the clouds. He daydreams almost incessantly, and he has no way to stop himself. But how can he help it when school is so _boring_? He'd much rather pretend to be going on an epic quest than sit in school with an ache in his side. His desk is like a skeleton of some poor, deceased furniture. It's skinny and pathetic and it would serve its purpose much better if it was covered in plush pillows. Sometimes, Simon can bring himself to forget the miserable classroom that surrounds him. With a little imagination, he can make the monotony interesting. Instead of a blackboard, he sees vast mountains; instead of scuffed linoleum, he sees a shimmering lake. He's transported to a land of impossible things, yet they _are_ possible, because they exist in his mind. His dreams come true, in a way. It's like that in real life too: you have to dream it before you can make it real.

"Simon!"

He jolts as the teacher slams her ruler on his desk.

"I asked you a question. What is your answer?"

He trembles like a leaf.

"Yes."

The teacher scoffs.

"According to Simon, four times fives equals 'yes'."

Everyone in the class laughs, and Simon slouches forward with embarrassment. He wants to dig a hole in the floor and hide from his classmates. Yes, that sounds like a good plan. They'd never find him underground. Maybe he could dig his way to California or something . . .

That probably won't work. He'd better just apologize.

"I'm sorry," he whispers humbly.

"Pay attention," his teacher scolds, "If you're going to pay for these classes, you'd better make use of the information you're given."

What does that even _mean_? She's gone bonkers!

Gosh, this day has been awful. The same thing happened earlier in history class. Simon had been imagining what it would be like to fight in a war back when they had to load their guns with those long stick things. Would fighting be just as scary back then, or were people taught to be brave? Did they think differently? They certainly _spoke_ differently. No one used words like "rewind" or "fast foward", for example. That only came along with the invention of film. Even the introduction of a single piece of technology could change the way people spoke. Everything is connected.

Simon doesn't realize that his train of thought has departed from Math Station until he notices that the blackboard is covered in strange markings that somewhat resemble numbers and lines. He tries to copy the equations down, hoping to figure them out later, but the teacher erases them before he can. He sighs and places his pencil in the trench at the far end of his desk. He is just about to start pondering how much it looks like a canoe in a Canadian river, but he stops himself. He has to pay attention to the lesson. He's already behind.

But school isn't necessarily the most important thing in the world, is it? Maybe Simon is secretly one of those brilliant people who doesn't work well within the system. Maybe he will break free from his private school chains and soar over his peers. Or maybe he'll end up homeless because he was belligerent in school. Maybe he'll be one of those hippies who says that education is a government construct designed to brainwash children. Maybe he'll blame his lack of motivation on those who are more successful than he is. Maybe he'll grow dreadlocks and play an instrument by the side of the road, making less than is required to buy food.

Maybe he just got distracted again, and he should be focusing on school.

Yes, that seems about right.

Still, he can't help but wonder what it would be like to just run away and forget this whole "school" thing. Perhaps he could become a sailor, or maybe he could be a pirate. That sounds so terribly exciting. Simon thinks that he would make a great pirate: the best there's ever been. He'd be more fearsome than Blackbeard himself! Speaking of which, he would need a pirate name. Preferably something not related to his race. Has there ever been an Indian pirate before? Probably. But if there _was_ one, he probably wasn't the swashbuckling type like the pirates in Simon's storybooks. Then again, there might have been an Indian pirate in some ancient story who wore gilded clothing and had a panther for a pet, which is almost as cool. Yes, that sounds exciting, but Simon would still prefer to be a classic pirate. He likes the idea of owning a panther, though.

He shakes his head. He's supposed to be paying attention to the class, not thinking about-

A ship! He'd need a ship! It would be one of those big, fancy vessels with billowing sails and a carved mermaid at the front. What were those things called again? Simon doesn't remember, but he's sure there's a name for them. If only they'd teach him that kind of thing in school instead of-

SCHOOL! He's supposed to be paying attention to _school_ , not pirates. He got distracted again. He needs to focus on the board. He needs to-

-hire a man with a wooden peg-leg! Every pirate ship has to have at least one person with a peg leg! And another man with a glass eye! And a parrot! And a scout with a spyglass! And- And-

"Simon!"

He looks up at the teacher, who is scowling at him.

"Are you paying attention?" she spits.

He gulps and turns his eyes to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I got distracted."

The teacher scoffs.

"Tell me, Simon, in your mind, is there something more important than math?"

Pirates.


	6. Childhood

"This way! This way!"

Simon drags his father over to the elephant enclosure with a force great enough to rip his arm out of its socket. He trails behind him, laughing merrily, until they reach the fence. Simon jumps up and down, and his father puts him on his shoulders so he can see better. The pachyderms are splashing around in a shimmering pool, hoping to counteract the effects of the sun's intense heat. One of the elephants, the male with long tusks, lumbers over to them. Simon laughs as it flaps its ears.

"Phoo! Phoo!"

He tries to make elephant sounds, but they come out like sniffly whistles. To his delight, the animal replies with a loud trumpet. He claps his hands, rocking back and forth on his father's shoulders, and points to the next cage.

"That one! That one!"

His father carries him over to an aviary that houses various birds. Some leap from branch to branch, and others preen themselves in the shade. On the ground, a white peacock has his feathers spread out like a fan. Simon puts his hands behind his head to imitate its shape.

"Are you trying to be a deer?" his father laughs.

"No, I'm a bird, see?"

His father rolls his eyes.

"Alright, bird-boy. Where to next?"

Simon rubs his chin.

"Do they have cows?"

"No, son. We don't put cows in the zoo."

"Why not?"

"They're sacred," his father states.

"Really?"

"No. They're just too common," he laughs.

Simon sighs.

"Oh."

After a pause, his father grins sneakily.

"Do you want to see _my_ favorite animal?" his father asks.

Simon perks up. This is an intriguing proposition. He's been given the chance to learn something about his father, almost like diving into his psyche. His father is an adult, and therefore mysterious, so this trivia holds more weight than Simon can express. But he needs to remain calm.

"Yes, I do," he answers with a mature seriousness.

His father smiles and carries him across the zoo. They pass flamingos and zebras and bonobos. They round a corner, walking by a long snake, and Simon wonders what could possibly be better than the animals they've already seen. Finally, they stop at what appears to be an empty cage. Simon stares at it with confusion.

"Where's the animal, Pa?"

His father puts his fingers to his lips and points at a cave that is concealed by thick vines. Inside, something is stirring. Simon gapes in awe as a white tiger slips out of the darkness. It prowls through the grass, shadows dancing across its back as it moves through the shade. It's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen.

"See how he moves?" his father whispers, "He's not afraid of anything. He's the king of the jungle."

Simon's eyes are wide.

"Wow . . ."

The tiger stalks over to a small pond and starts lapping up water. Simon watches its tongue tapping the surface and wonders how it's able to stay hydrated without slurping. It's like a housecat, only a lot bigger. It continues to make ripples with each lick, and flicks its tail. Simon leans forward. The animal looks up at him, and he feels his stomach sink. He's afraid of the feline, which is ridiculous because they're separated by a tall fence. When the tiger breaks eye contact, licking his lips, Simon is relieved.

"What do you think of it?" his father asks.

"It's fantastic," Simon whispers.

After a pause, his father lifts him off of his shoulders and places him on the ground. He gives him a serious look.

"Simon, I'm not always going to be here."

He cocks his head.

"Where are you going?"

His father sighs.

"I don't know. But people don't stay around forever, Simon."

He bites his lip.

"Why not?"

"They just don't."

Simon's eyes begin to water.

"Are you leaving me?"

His father shakes his head.

"I won't leave if I can help it. Hopefully, I won't have to go for a very long time. But I don't have control over that. No one does. If something happens to me, I need you to promise that you'll be strong. Everything I own, everything I've worked for, will go to you. That's an enormous responsibility to take on. When you grow up, I need you to be in charge."

Simon sniffles and tugs on his hand.

"I don't want you to leave, Pa."

His father kneels down in front of him.

"I know, but sometimes we don't have a choice. Even if people leave you, it doesn't mean they're gone. As long as you remember them, they will live inside of you."

Simon wipes his eyes. His heart is doing somersaults.

"Are you dying, Pa?"

His father shakes his head firmly.

"No, not yet. But there will come a day when I do. You need to promise me that you'll be strong then. Can you do that?"

Simon shakes his head.

"I can't, Pa. I'm not brave like you are. I'm always dreaming. That's why I'm weak."

His father smiles.

"It's your dreams that make you strong. Don't try to be me, Simon. Be your own man. You're the most imaginative child I've ever known. It's not a curse. It's a blessing."

Simon looks up.

"A blessing?"

"Of course," his father says warmly, "If you continue to dream, Simon, you'll be a greater man than I ever was."

"That's impossible, Pa."

His father smiles.

"I know it may seem that way right now, but remember, the world is full of impossible things."

Somehow, Simon knows that his father is telling the truth. He gives him a hug, unaware that the tiger is watching him from its cave.

 **The End**


End file.
